


Small Kindness

by fangirl_squee



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:29:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the kinkmeme prompt: Grantaire has been visiting the whores a lot recently and the Amis suspect that well, it is the obvious.</p><p>Little do they know Grantaire is actually just paying them to pose nude for him so he can paint them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> link to the original prompt: http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/11823.html?thread=3138095#t3138095

 

 

He's surprising gentle with them. Not many are.

  
  
When Grantaire first stumbles down to the docks, the girls are wary. Because, honestly, who pays a prostitute to just stand there? But Grantaire is very insistent, and he pays well. Eventually, they trust him, even looking forward to his visits. Trusting can be dangerous in their line of work, but he barely touches them (only arranging an arm or leg there before he starts to sketch), and keeps his leers to a minimum as they undress.  


One of women complains in passing about being tired or cold (or both), and after that he starts to bring two or three canvasses, switching out every few hours to give them a break.  


"It is no trouble for me,” says Grantaire, “this way I can paint more."  


There's always a few robes lying around Grantaire's rooms, kept surprisingly clean for a drunkard's belongings. He tells them to take what they like from the kitchen almost absentmindedly, apparently trusting that they won't steal anything (the only real things of value in his rooms are his painting supplies and his wine, anyway). Sometimes one of the women who know her letters will read aloud, but mostly they sleep, enjoying the warmth and safety of Grantaire's lumpy mattress.

 

Grantaire is perfectly happy to let any of them flick through his small collection of books, and it’s only a matter of time before they begin to flick through his sketch books as well. There are a few landscapes, quick sketches of the city or smaller, more detailed drawings of specific buildings, but most of the sketchbooks are filled with people. Old and young, rich and poor, Grantaire has taken equal time and care with them all. One figure is repeated more than the others – a young man, wearing fine clothes.

 

“Who is this?” says one of the women, “He’s gorgeous. You should bring him around so we have something pretty to look at while we wait.”

 

Grantaire looks over from where he’s mixing paints. “That’s Enjolras.”

 

“I can see why you speak of him so often,” says another woman, leaning over to look at the sketch.

 

“Ah, if only it were as simple as mere lust,” says Grantaire, “now, whose turn is it? I need someone for Athena.”

 

 

When he tells them he is going to the barricades, they try to talk him out of it. But Grantaire will not heed them.

 

“If the sun goes out, what is there to do but go out with it?”

 

 

 

After the streets are quiet once more, the soldiers come to the docks. They often do, after all, nothing makes those young men feel quite as alive as a young woman. Some of them speak of the battle they fought, of the last two revolutionaries who died together.

 

This is how they learn that Grantaire has died.

 

The news spreads quickly between them, whispers passed in the time between customers. As the sun rises they gather at Grantaire’s apartment. His rent is paid up for the month, and it seems a shame to let the last remnants of his comfort go to waste.

 

One of the women knows her letters well enough to write a short letter to his sister, the only family he ever spoke of with warmth. They collect his money from his various hiding places around the room, and use it to send some of Grantaire’s belongings to her – his sketchbooks, some of his paintings, his letters. They argue good-naturedly over which ones can be considered Grantaire’s best work, and hope his sister agrees with their choices.

 

The rest of the paintings they divide amongst themselves, some to sell, but most to keep. They spend the night with the remains of Grantaire’s wine, toasting to the man who saw them not as whores, but as art.

 

**Author's Note:**

> also, to make the ending feel less sad - and after this they all pool their money together and live in Grantaire's crappy-but-warm apartment and teach each other to read and a few of them start painting and their paintings sell well enough that they don’t have to worry about money as much and they live happily ever after okay
> 
>  
> 
> feedback is always loved: fangirl-squee.tumblr.com/ask


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